She came faint from the fog, and a daughter tasted her footsteps. I accidentally turned back, but then her moistened breath like this dream.
Her walking in the fog is that this fog is too strong, but I have retained my eyes? Or, I haven't got me for me, I'm like a back of a goose, like a shallow shape.
She is hidden in the fog to be alone in the night, still in the greedy sucking the fog, her gentle image is in the separation.
This is beautiful, mysterious, so that you are so embarrassing, like her fog, like her fog.
